Soothing you
by Naurring
Summary: When a desperate elf arrives at Imladris, claiming to be Glorfindel of Gondolin Erestor’s world is turned upside down
1. Chapter 1

Title: Soothing you  
Disclaimer: Nothing mine and will never be.  
Pairing?  
Rating: PG-13 Word count: 1190/1190  
Warnings: selfinflicted injuries, depression  
Summary: When a desperate elf arrives at Imladris, claiming to be Glorfindel of Gondolin Erestor's world is turned upside down

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Erestor put the quill down and then stretched, yawning. With a satisfied grin he looked down at his finished work. He had worked late into the night and he was pleased with himself to have finally finished everything. Quickly he tidied up his desk, and, extinguishing the candles, left the office for his rooms. He looked forward to snuggle up in his bed and have a good night's rest.

He stopped dead in his tracks when suddenly a horrified scream echoed through the hallway. Another scream followed, louder this time, and Erestor lost no time, running in the direction of these sounds. Suddenly the screams stopped, but he was fairly sure where they had come from, and he came to a stop in front of the door to the room of the distressed elf. They belonged to a tall blond warrior, who had just joined their household two months ago. Glorfindel was his name and he had turned up quite confused, claiming to be from Gondolin and that Mandos had returned him to life with the order to make for Imladris.

Carefully Erestor opened the door and peeked inside. From his position behind the door he had a fairly good view of the big bed on the other side and his eyes instantly encountered the shivering form inside of it. Glorfindel lay on his side, curled up into a tight ball, the blond hair a tangled mess, shivering and moaning. The blanket had slipped from the bed and lay on the floor and even the pillows had been thrown down.

Confused and worried Erestor wondered what to do, but the decision was taken away from him when the warrior produced an especially loud moan and then suddenly jumped out of the bed, dashing into the bathroom. Erestor couldn't hear what he was doing there as the door slammed shut behind Glorfindel. For a moment stayed where he was, staring at the closed door and wondering if he should go in and try to help.

After a few moments of thinking he hesitantly entered the room, having a slightly bad conscience for entering Glorfindel's chambers without his permission. Advancing on the bathroom door he knocked on the wood. "Glorfindel?" There was no answer and even his continued knocking and calling remained unanswered. Finally Erestor turned away, deciding to leave the elf alone, as he didn't react to his presence. He silently closed the door behind him and continued his way to his rooms.

With a strange feeling in his stomach he undressed and slipped under the covers, where he lay, staring through the open curtains into the night, thinking about what he had just seen. The content mood had vanished and after he while he fell into an uneasy sleep.

Morning arrived and Imladris got ready for the new day. Erestor sat at the dining table, listlessly picking at his food, his eyes sweeping across the room. He still felt bad about last night and was worried for the blond warrior. Glorfindel clearly wasn't well, his behaviour this night proved only what he had already been thinking for some time, that he had some kind of emotional problem. He had already thought it strange when the blond had arrived in Imladris and claimed to be Glorfindel of Gondolin. Once again he looked through the room, but still he could not see Glorfindel. He wondered if he should go to his room and look for him, but on the other hand there was work waiting for him and he wasn't sure if Glorfindel would appreciate the company. He had made it very clear last night that he did not want his help or company.

Erestor pushed his breakfast away from him and rose, nodding towards the elves looking up at him before he retreated from the room. Slowly he made his way towards his room, to fetch some things he would need during the day. His way led him through the hallway Glorfindel's rooms were located in. Involuntarily he stopped in front of the door, staring at it, his mind working hard, until he finally stepped forward, knocking softly on the door. As expected, there was no reaction. Erestor wondered for a moment if he should just continue on his way but his concern for the elf finally won and he carefully opened the door once more.

His heart instantly missed a beat as his gaze fell into the room and onto the bed. Glorfindel looked horrible. The blond elf was perched on his bed with his back to the door and he didn't even move as much as a finger as Erestor quickly closed the door and advanced on the bed. He stopped next to it, staring down at the distraught elf in it with a look of pure shock on his face.

Glorfindel was pale, paler than any elf Erestor had ever seen, and the bones in his face were protruding sharply, giving him a starved look. Erestor was sure the rest of his body didn't look any better, though he couldn't see much of it because of the light robe Glorfindel was wrapped in. But the part that shocked him the most was the elf's hair.

Where there had been long golden tresses just a few days ago there now were only ragged remains of the once beautiful mane. The longest strands barely reached under Glorfindel's ears and at one point the hair had been cut so short that the elf's head showed beneath, revealing a bloody scrape. It clearly looked like he had done this to himself, with rage and clearly no skill. Erestor opened his mouth to say something, but nothing came out. Glorfindel just stared at him with tired, red eyes, lined with dark circles. Tear stains marred his face and he looked more dead than alive.

Finally Erestor was able to move. He took the last step towards the blond and crouched down before him, reaching out with a shaking hand. "What have you done?" he whispered, too shocked by what he saw before him to offer any words of comfort the other elf seemed to need desperately.

Glorfindel shied away from the touch, leaning away from it and Erestor moved his hand away again. Glorfindel said nothing, just looked at him with this bone-tired, confused and desperate look in his eyes, before turning away, lying down on the bed and rolling into a tight ball.

Erestor rose from his position on the floor and leaned over the blond. "Glorfindel," he pleaded, not sure why the state of the elf on the bed was such a concern to him. "Why have you done this? What ails you?"

Again he received no answer; Glorfindel just curled up tighter. Erestor just stared down at him for a few more minutes as he had done before, his thoughts reeling. It was clear that he would get no straight answer from Glorfindel, but it was also very clear that the elf desperately needed help. Finally he moved away from the bed and left the room, heading back to the dining hall, hoping he would still find Elrond there.

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	2. Chapter 2

Disclaimer: Nothing mine and will never be.

Wordcount: 1962/3152

Chapter 2

A wave of relief washed over Erestor when he saw Elrond sitting at his usual place at the table, talking to one of his sons. Most of the elves in the room looked up when Erestor unexpectedly entered once more, heading straight to the Lord of Imladris. Noticing the sudden silence and the gazes of the elves Elrond turned around, frowning as he saw Erestor walk up towards him, a strange expression on his face, a mixture of worry and haste.

Erestor stepped up beside him, leaning down onto the table to whisper into Elrond's ear. "Elrond," he asked as quietly as he could, not wanting any others to hear his words. "I need your help. Now. Could you please come with me?"

Elrond nodded and rose, excusing himself as he left the table. He felt highly confused about his advisor's reaction, but Erestor wasn't known to make a fuss over small things and up to now his judgement had always proven to be right when he saw the need for Elrond's immediate presence. Following Erestor out of the room Elrond waited for him to speak.

"It is Glorfindel," Erestor started as soon as they had stepped into the hallway. "Something is wrong with him. Very wrong. I saw him this morning and followed him into his rooms, as he didn't look well. Elrond, he is more dead than alive. And he cut his hair. He is nearly bald."

Elrond furrowed his brow. "You mean this tall blond who turned up two month ago with this strange story about being Glorfindel of Gondolin and having been reborn?"

"That's him," Erestor nodded. "You don't believe him?"

"Do you?" Elrond asked back, raising one eyebrow at Erestor.

Erestor hesitated for a short moment, thinking. "No," he finally answered. "Actually I think that he's just an elf looking as if he could be the real Glorfindel, and he is using this fact to benefit from it. He barely left his rooms since he turned up here. Still… Elrond, I don't know who he is or why he feels the need to tell such stories, but I know that something is really wrong with him and that he needs help."

"I thought so myself," Elrond agreed. "I never turned somebody in need away and I surely will not start doing so now. Perhaps he felt I wouldn't allow him in if he told the truth and is too afraid to ask for help." Elrond shrugged. "I don't know. We can still discuss this later." He broke off the subject when they reached the door to the blond's rooms. "Let's see what we can do for him."

Elrond stopped dead in his tracks when he saw Glorfindel, much like Erestor had. He had thought Erestor to exaggerate the situation but had still followed to have a look at Glorfindel, to indulge his friend, who had seemed to be extremely worried. At the moment he couldn't see much of the blond, curled up as he was beneath a blanket; everything that showed was his cut hair. Elrond wasn't sure if Glorfindel was asleep, simply didn't notice their presence or chose to ignore them, but he didn't react in any way. Elrond took his time studying the wound on Glorfindel's head, whilst the elf lay quietly on his bed. It didn't look to be more than a superficial wound, but it had bled much and the spot was crusted with dried blood.

Erestor stood in the room, watching Elrond hovering over the distraught elf in the bed. When both of them didn't move and just stayed like that for several minutes his eyes started to roam through the room. His gaze fell upon the open bathroom door and he remembered how Glorfindel had stormed into the bath the night before. Slowly he walked towards the door and entered the chamber, freezing when he immediately saw the golden strands on the floor. The thought that Glorfindel had done this to himself pained him greatly, even more so because nearly every elf in Imladris who had encountered him up to now envied him for his beautiful mane. To now see it lie forgotten on the floor, the ends jagged and crusted with dried blood, gave his heart a squeeze. Next to the blond strands lay the dagger which had ended the life of those tresses. It was also encrusted with dried blood, blood which had poured out of the wound it had inflicted on the blond's head. "Erestor." He could hear Elrond softly call for him from the bedchamber and he cast one last look at the formerly beautiful hair and returned to Elrond's side.

Elrond was still standing in the same position as before next to the bed, but now he was looking at him. "Could you please fetch some hot water and cloths, bandages and some of the antiseptic salve?"

Erestor nodded, already turning towards the door. "I will." He quickly left the room to comply with Elrond's wishes, feeling a sick not in his stomach.

When Erestor had gone Elrond returned his attention to the elf lying under the blanket. He seated himself carefully on the edge of the bed and bend down towards the blond, gently stroking over the remaining hair near the forehead, careful not to touch the wound. "Glorfindel," he softly called, and a slight flinch of the huddled form told him the elf was awake and very much aware of what was happening around him. "Will you please look at me?"

His words had no effect, other than to make him curl up even tighter. Elrond sighed. "Please, Glorfindel. I am here to help. You don't need to talk now, just let me have a look at you and care for your wounds."

The form under his hands shook slightly and with a sigh Elrond finally gave up, realizing that words would get him nowhere. Gently, but firmly Elrond took hold of the blanket, pulling it out of Glorfindel's grip and off of his body. Strangely enough the blond didn't fight, even as Elrond slowly pried his body apart and forced him on his back.

"Look at me," Elrond said softly, gently stroking the trembling elf's face. It took some moments but finally Glorfindel opened his eyes, staring at him with bright green eyes, fear, loneliness, confusion, desperation, all evident in his gaze.

"Why don't you tell me what is bothering you?" Elrond continued, keeping his voice soft and reassuring, his hand slowly roaming over the elf's body, checking for injuries. "I only want to help. Tell me where you come from and what happened to upset you so and I will try to find a solution for whatever problems you have."

Hope had briefly flared up in Glorfindel's eyes, but at hearing those words it died down again. He slowly shook his head and closed his eyes again, shutting of this horrible world and allowing Elrond passively to look his body over for any injuries. The half elf found none, safe for the wound at his head and his worrying malnourished state. He had just finished his examination when Erestor entered the room again, carrying a basin with hot water and the supplies Elrond had asked for.

Erestor cast a worried look at his friend, but Elrond could only shrug and return his attention to the injured elf, gently coaxing him into an upright position. He was startled by the soft sob that escaped Glorfindel's clenched lips and the silvery tear that ran down his cheek. Glorfindel sat still whilst Elrond cleaned the wound at his head and bandaged it, after putting the salve on it. Out of the corner of his eye he could see Erestor standing in the room, a pained expression on his face as he helplessly fidgeted with the hem of his tunic. He desperately wanted to help this elf but he didn't even know what was wrong with him, let alone how to help him.

Elrond finished his work and gently pulled Glorfindel's face in his direction, forcing him to look at him. "Don't you want to tell me what ails you?"

Glorfindel stared at him for a moment but didn't answer; the only reaction the elf lord received were the silent tears falling faster.

Elrond sighed and rose, his gaze falling onto a mug of hot tea Erestor had brought as well. He picked up the mug, raising it to sniff at it, a slight smile spreading over his face as he recognized the contents, a sleeping draught. Erestor always knew what was needed, even if nobody told him.

Returning to his patient's side he gently pressed the cup against the blond's lips. "Here. Drink this."

Glorfindel pulled away at first, staring at the wall with an expression of such despair that Erestor thought his heart would be torn apart as he watched this.

Gently but firmly Elrond forced him to swallow the contents of the cup, offering the empty cup to Erestor who quickly stepped forward to take it. He pushed Glorfindel back onto the mattress, pulling the wrinkled sheets over him. Gently stroking his tear stained cheek he made sure that they covered him completely. "Sleep now," he ordered him softly. "We will see tomorrow what we shall do about you."

Glorfindel didn't answer, lying motionlessly in his bed, eyes tightly shut, tears running down his face. The two elves silently gathered their supplies and left the room, breathing a sigh of relief when they left the strange atmosphere of Glorfindel's rooms, which were filled with an air of despair and loneliness.

Elrond looked at his friend, slowly shaking his head. "I am sorry, Erestor. There does not seem to be anything physically wrong with him, safe for the wound at his head, which looks pretty much like he inflicted it upon himself."

Erestor nodded in agreement. "He did. I saw the knife and his hair lying on the bathroom floor." The two elves were silent for me moment whilst, walking along the hallway. "So you think that all that is wrong with him are mental problems?"

Elrond nodded. "I think so. It is very clear that there is something seriously wrong, but physically he is perfectly fine. Still, I can't help him unless he talks to me. What he did to his hair worries me greatly. I fear that he might try to do something foolish that could harm him even more than that."

Elrond didn't say the words, but Erestor understood nonetheless. "You think he might try to kill himself."

"If he does not get help and solves his problems, yes, it might come to that."

Erestor nodded slowly, walking silently alongside Elrond. "I will look after him," he softly told his friend, halting in his steps because they had reached a crossroad that would lead him out of the hallway where his and Glorfindel's rooms were located. "My rooms are situated closest to his and it is easiest for me to reach him. I don't think he should be left unattended."

Elrond nodded in agreement. "Do this, my friend. Please try to make him talk and tell you of what is bothering him. We need to know." He gently clasped Erestor's shoulders in a farewell gesture and then walked further down the corridor, to put the items he had used for Glorfindel's treatment back where they belonged.

Erestor turned around and slowly walked back to Glorfindel's rooms, his heart filled with worry and also some guilt for not having tried to help him the night before, when he had seen that there was clearly something wrong. He couldn't change what had happened last night, but he could try to make amends now and to help Glorfindel to leave whatever bothered him behind.

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	3. Chapter 3

Disclaimer: Nothing mine and will never be.

Wordcount: 2460/5613

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Chapter 3

The sky flared in a sickly red, illuminated by the roaring flames that slowly consumed the once glorious city. Desperate screams echoed from within the confines of the walls, accompanied by the hoarse victorious screams of the foul creatures desecrating Gondolin's silent beauty and peace. The city was dying and all its inhabitants went down with it, murdered, raped, crippled. Everybody who had managed to leave in time through the secret path leading through the stone of the mountain ran as fast as they were able to, frightened, panicked.

Glorfindel's lungs burned as he desperately headed through the dark tunnel towards the patch of light which had to be somewhere in front of them and which promised safety and hope. They had little light, having had no time to take any with them in their haste to leave the falling city.

The blood rushed in the young warrior's ears, shutting out the terrible sounds they were leaving behind. Glorfindel gasped painfully as he stumbled against the wall, painfully scratching open his hand when he tried to support himself. There were dozens of other elves with him in the tunnel, but he could neither see nor hear any of them. All he could think of and see in his mind was the terrible battle he had just left behind.

Never had he thought that a fight would be so terrible. Of course he had often imagined it, how he would perform heroic deeds, kill the foul creatures and save innocent bystanders from certain doom. But the reality was nothing like this. It was an exhausting and messy work, slaughtering the orcs which had invaded the city. He had thought he would faint at any moment so frightened and exhausted was he when they finally grew less. But it had only been a small pause to send far more terrible creatures their way.

He had felt numb ever since he saw Ecthelion fight the Lord of the Balrogs, watching how he was finally defeated by him and vanished into the depths of a fountain. His mind didn't want to cooperate and he was standing numbly in a street, unable to think of anything to do, until somebody had grabbed him and pulled him along, pushing him towards the tunnel, screaming at him to go and safe himself. His world had totally crumbled when he saw the tower of the king fall to dust, the ultimate sign of Gondolin's beauty and might. Lead by several other elves he had finally made it into the dark tunnel, stumbling along, blind and deaf.

Neither of the fleeing elves noticed the silent, burning figure slowly advancing on the tunnel's entrance, carefully scanning the darkness for any signs of life. The figure just stood there for several moments and finally, slowly, started to creep into the tunnel, following the elves.

Glorfindel blindly stumbled along, always behind the others. He didn't even notice when they finally left the tunnel and stepped out into the open. Sighs of relief went through the group; but they did not rest even for a single moment. They were still far too near to the city. They would only be safe when they were far, far away. The way they had to follow now was narrow and they had to be careful to prevent anybody from falling from the cliff.

Glorfindel felt someone grip his shoulders and guide him firmly over the narrow path. Later, when everything was over, Glorfindel was very grateful for this assistance; for he was sure that he would have fallen into the abyss if he had had to walk alone.

His mind and body still refused to cooperate and his mind was blank as he stumbled along, barely aware of his surroundings. He was so lost in the blankness that was his mind, that he only heard the screams after some moments. He felt movement around himself and saw the vague shadows of the running elves, trying to escape the horror behind them.

Glorfindel barely noticed that the hands on his shoulder were gone and when he slowly turned around to see what this was all about he stared directly at the burning frame of a gigantic balrog. He had no idea why he did what he did and afterwards he was sure that he had only done so because of his complete lack of grasp of reality. For some moments he only stared at the thing in front of him, not fully understanding what this meant. When suddenly the creature lunged forward at him he drew his sword without even a single thought and threw himself at the creature.

He remembered nothing more of the fight than of their flight and yet so much more. He could never have told anybody how long they had fought or things similar to this but some details had burned themselves into his mind. He remembered the burning whip, swinging down onto his unguarded flesh, the roaring of the flames devouring the creature and above all he remembered the moment when the Balrog had grabbed his long fair hair and had pulled him over the edge, to his death.

A loud scream left his throat and Glorfindel's hands clawed at the sheets. His eyes flew open and he stared up at the ceiling of his room in Imladris, drenched in sweat, the blankets covering him soaked with it, shivering all over his body. For some moments he simply lay there, trying to come back to this time and place, wanting to tell himself that it had only been a dream. But it was no dream. It had never been a dream.

Bile rose up in his throat and within a second Glorfindel was up and on his way into the bathroom. Throwing up was painful; his throat raw and hurting from all the times he woke up after a dream like this one, feeling the need to empty his stomach. He was still shivering and as he looked into the mirror he noticed how terrible he looked. His face was completely white and the long blond hair clung to his face and chest.

His hair. It was all because of this damned hair.

Glorfindel had always been proud of his mane but since his rebirth he felt a strange mixture of disgust and fright where it was concerned. His gaze fell upon a knife on the small table in the bathroom and before he could think about it he had already grabbed it and started to hack at the strands. If the hair was gone nobody could pull him to his death by it and there was no need to fear anymore. It was just a simple act of self-protection. He felt the sharp pain as he cut into the skin of his head, trying to cut the hair of as close to the roots as possible. Finally he gave up and looked again into the mirror, panting, sweating. The blond mane was gone and there were only a few short rags left.

Feeling a strange sense of emptiness now that this was done Glorfindel opened his hand and let the knife fall to the floor where his hair lay. Slowly he left the bathroom and dragged himself back to his bed, crawling onto the mattress.

How he wished to be still dead. Life was nothing but pure torture and he wanted nothing more than it to end. He would never end it himself, he had experienced death once and nothing could have brought him to do it a second time. He had no idea why he had been brought back but he hated the Valar for doing so. In Middle earth there was nothing for him.

At first he had thought it might be alright, that he could manage, but he had not expected the disgust and denial of the other elves. He had arrived in the Grey Havens, where Círdan lived. In the beginning everybody had been kind to him but when he had told them his name and refused to admit to it being a lie in the following weeks they had become steadily less friendly, calling him a liar and making up various reasons for his silence, none of them very nice.

For Glorfindel it had felt like hell. He had hoped for help and the understanding of these elves, for their support and friendship but all that he got was refusal and unfriendliness, just because they could not believe that an elf had been reborn. Glorfindel had never felt more alone in his life, or rather in his two lives, than he did just now. How was he supposed to start a new life when nobody believed him? He could not simply invent a new name for himself and start all over. There was so much deep inside of him, so painful and terrible, and what he wanted most was for someone to believe him, to be there for him, to listen to him. There was no way that he could simply forget about this. Everybody would notice that he was hiding something and everything would start all over.

He did not know how long he lay there, lost in his memories and the nightmare that was his new life, but considering the change of light it was a long time. At some point, when the sun was already high up in the sky, the door to his rooms opened and a slender figure slipped inside.

He heard the horrified gasp, but he felt unable to react. What use was it? He would only get rejection and hurtful words anyway.

"What have you done?" a voice whispered, now close beside him.

Glorfindel felt more than he saw the movement as the elf reached out to touch him; turning away from him and rolling into a tight ball to shut out his presence, hoping the other one would just go away when he saw his unresponsiveness.

"Glorfindel." The voice was nearly pleading, begging the former blond to answer him. "Why have you done this? What ails you?"

Glorfindel remained motionless, trying hard to hold back the sobs that threatened to escape his throat. He craved to confide in someone, to be held and comforted, but what use was there in reacting to this elf? He seemed to be worried for him now, but once he'd start to tell him of his troubles he'd just leave him again. Who'd want to listen to someone who was such an apparent liar, claiming to be Glorfindel of Gondolin?

Glorfindel breathed a sigh of relief as he heard the door close behind the elf, letting out the sobs choking him as he allowed himself to give in to the desperation he felt once more. His relief about being left alone was only short lived, however, as the door opened once more only shortly after. He quickly chocked down his sobs once more and closed his eyes, hoping they would leave if they thought him to be asleep.

Nothing moved in the room for a long while, until another voice cut through the silence of the room. "Could you please fetch some hot water and cloths, bandages and some of the antiseptic salve?"

"I will," replied a second voice, the elf Glorfindel had hoped had left him for good the first time, but apparently he had only left to go get reinforcements. The door fell shut once more and Glorfindel heard the steps of the second elf advance on him. The mattress shifted as he sat down on the bed and a hand touched his head, making Glorfindel flinch. He did not want to be touched; all he wanted was to be left alone.

"Glorfindel," the elf called softly, caressing him. "Will you please look at me?"

Glorfindel only curled up even tighter, trying to ignore the other's presence. Why didn't he understand that he didn't want him to be in his rooms?

"Please, Glorfindel," the elf sighed. "I am here to help. You don't need to talk now, just let me have a look at you and care for your wounds."

The blanket he was clutching around him was suddenly pulled out of his grasp and strong hands turned him onto his back, forcing him to straighten his legs.

"Look at me," the voice said calmly, but firmly, gentle fingers caressing his cheek.

Slowly Glorfindel opened his eyes, staring at the elf in front of him, hoping against better knowledge that it would be different this time. He was sure he had already seen him, but he had hardly paid attention to the people being introduced when he arrived and he couldn't think of the elf's name.

"Why don't you tell me what is bothering you?" Glorfindel could feel hands moving over his body, probing, searching. "I only want to help. Tell me where you come from and what happened to upset you so and I will try to find a solution for whatever problems you have."

What little hope might have risen in Glorfindel died at these words. He had thought perhaps this time it would be better, but it wasn't any different from all the other times. They always pretended to want to help, but once he did so much as to refuse to give them another name but 'Glorfindel' they weren't so sympathetic anymore, getting angry because they thought him to be a liar. And the elf's words proved that he believed no more than everybody before him that he had been reborn.

When he was forced to sit up he couldn't prevent the choked sobs from leaving his mouth. Why didn't they just leave him in peace? He didn't ask anything of them, all he wanted was to be left alone.

But the other elf didn't go and took his time cleaning and bandaging the wound at his head. Glorfindel endured it silently, tears rolling down his face, eyes closed tightly, shutting out the physical pain and the elf's voice, until something was pressed against his lips and a liquid forced into his mouth, making his eyes widen in surprise and shock. Involuntarily he wanted to turn his head away, gaze fixed on a spot at the wall, shaking.

They would have none of it, though, and slowly he was forced to drink all of the vile liquid, too weak and exhausted to put up much of a resistance. Finally he was pushed back to the mattress and the covers were pulled over him once more. Again Glorfindel sobbed with relief as they finally left the room and he was alone, but he didn't have much time to enjoy his solitude. The sleeping draught was slowly doing its work and pulling him into the clutches of sleep.

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End file.
